


Harry Lockhart and Perry van Shrike Informally Invite You to Their Wedding They Didn't Know About

by bluerosele



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Friendship, Harmony needs new friends, Harry bolts a lot okay, Harry realizes things, Harry realizes things at inopportune times, IKEA?, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Appropriate Language Sorry Midwest, M/M, Perry's an idiot, harry's an idiot, married without knowing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosele/pseuds/bluerosele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-explanatory. Harry's not use to stability, and Perry, the wonderful PI, is not use to having to actually worry when someone goes missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. IKEA Revelations

Harry figures it out in the middle of IKEA. 

He freezes in the directory arrow and almost drops the plates he’s carrying and Perry would give him such shit for that, and jesus it’s probably a sign that his mind immediately goes to that being the first negative outcome. The noises of domestic hypothetical contemplations blurs out and Harry just goes blank. People behind him funnel around because IKEA is survival mode and they won’t be bothered by someone having a small panic attack if they can just go around them. Harry’s pretty sure he might’ve stayed in that spot for a few hours if Perry didn’t somehow immediately sense what was happening and spin around exasperated as ever. 

“Get confused by the arrows, Chief?” Perry says, and saunters (he always fucking saunters) to him staring past him at the other six billion plates lining the wall. “You follow them. Remember?” 

Harry tries to say something back, because really this is Perry’s fault he doesn't need to be an asshole about it, but he’s choking on words and air and ideas and can only stare. Perry eventually gets weirded out and looks at him. 

“Listen, I know you can only process so much in a given amount of time, but please do not make me have to carry you out of IKEA like a piece of fucking furniture.” Perry sounds Perry irritated, but there’s the same look in his eyes that let’s Harry know he is more than a little invested in what’s going on. Harry wants to punch him and then himself for knowing that. 

“I—plates.” Harry decides to thrust out the plates instead of using actual words because words always fail. They clink against the buttons of Perry’s jacket. Perry just stands there. 

“You’re hopeless.” Perry says this generally, so Harry remains unfazed in defense as he grabs the plates.

Plates Harry chose for Perry's home. The home Harry lives in with Perry. The home Perry has not kicked Harry out of. The home Harry has had longer than any other in years. The home where he leaves his name on the voicemail because "he's a part of the business too, Goddamnit, Batman's needs a Robin". The home where those plates will be used to eat food Perry cooks for him to make sure Harry actually eats regularly and doesn't forget.

 Jesus, he’s practically married to the guy.

And holy fucking Christ shitting a unicycle, Harry Lockhart is in love with Perry van Shrike.

Without thinking at all, Harry runs against the crowd and arrows backwards away from Perry and out the store into a cab heading wherever the fuck he just half shouted to the driver. 


	2. Harmony Deserves so Much More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes the one place he can think Perry van Shrike knows he'd be too stupid to think of actually going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harmony deserves so much more in life.

Harmony Lane doesn't ask for much. Okay, yeah, she wants to be a movie star with a paycheck with zeroes that go off the page but who doesn't here--and anyway that's not the point. It's 10:34 in the fucking AM (what? Her career depends on nighttime networking) and she definitely is not asking for the persistent banging on her door. And she's never asked to know who it is who's doing said tap dance on her door without opening it. 

"For the love of God, Harry, what the fuck do you want?" She's somehow managed to shuffle towards the door and thrust it open fast enough to seem like she has the energy to kick him out as fast as he's arrived, puppy eyes be damned. 

Harry stands absolutely unashamed smiling in his manic way and says, "Cup of sugar?" 

Harmony begins to slam the door--

"No, no, wait--!" 

Considering last time Harmony actually had  gone all the way with the door slamming and ended up with Harry's wedding finger on her floor she stops. Though it'd been satisfying, she stops midway for the avoidance of cleaning blood of the floor again, than dealing with Harry's bitching about " _finger, finger I finger?!"_

"Harry, explain in the next five seconds or I will throw you off the balcony." 

"Ah, wait no okay pressure again, that seems to be your thing ah--" and it's not fair to manipulate Harry's anxiety about timing but Harmony's lost patience for being fair when she was tossed down a hill in a slutty Santa suit. She's about to say it's okay and actually let him in (she's up anyhow) but then Harry Lockhart somehow finds words after all these years and starts a tirade of: 

"Okay, listen, I didn't mean to bother you its early it is I don't care who says otherwise but Perry wanted to go to IKEA as soon as it opens which is stupid because it's perpetually crowded but he says it doesn't matter we've a fighting chance there and I never once considered what IKEA meant Harm I should've it's literally IKEA and I realized in the worst place with all the plates but he picked them up because he saves me all the time and shit, Harmony, shit how did this happen I never meant to--" 

"Whoa, whoa, buddy okay this is--" Harmony lets the door swing wide open and Harry practically enfolds himself into her arms. "Jesus, Harry, what happened?" She pets his hair and leads him inside to the couch so he can curl around himself and let her blockade him from the outside world. "You guys get into a fight?" 

Which, somehow even Harmony feels a bit of panic thinking about. It's Lockhart and van Shrike now or van Shrike and Lockhart and those two fucking deserve each other and if they can't friends or whatever they even are what chance does the rest of the world have? But Harry's talking again and Harmony focuses in.  

"Worse, Harm, so, so much worse." Harry looks over his self cocooned shielded shoulder with eyes she hasn't seen since that damned hill. "I'm _in love_ with him." 


	3. Lost: Short Spiky Haired Man Responds to Idiot or Harry--Reward: Not Having to Deal With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perry van Shrike is a goddamn Private Investigator and he's lost his idiot partner--coworker--shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enfoiré means fucker in French according to my French speaking friend but she could just be dicking around with me so sorry for all.

"Would a Harry Enfoiré Lockhart please come to the check out desk? Please, would a Harry Enfoiré Lockhart report to check out desk number 7?" The clerk repeats what Perry's asked to her microphone. "I hope your friend is okay, does he get lost often?"

"More than often," Perry gives her a shit eating grin and she blushes. "Apparently he can't even follow arrows. Thanks for making the call though." Perry winks. The clerk giggles and Perry feels bad about using her like this he does. But hey it's a clerks job to report missing persons in a large vicinity that is literally a mansion stacked on top of twelve other mansions right? Even when their descriptions are "idiot, no he's like thirty, and idiot". He slipped in a French motherfucker at least because Harry is one and deserves it even if Perry's the only one who knows. He going to have to get this Clerk a fucking cake or something if her boss speaks French.

The clerk leaves her phone number on the receipt Perry takes on his way over to the half assed lounge area with bouldered sculptures looming overhead to wait in the secret ninth circle of hell known as IKEA. When the clerk is out of sight he throws the receipt into the nearest trash bin. Perry's a self proclaimed asshole but he's doing it with good intentions.

He can't give that ammunition to Harry that's improper conditioning response for his idiocy, and besides she doesn't deserve him.

Or, no she doesn't deserve to put up with Harry. That's Perry's job. Yeah that's what he meant. Perry holds his head by his hands, elbows steadied by his knees.

 _Shit_.

* * *

 

Harmony sits and listens and rubs Harry's back as he laments on about whatever the hell he's trying to get out, and Harmony understands really, but she can't stop herself from asking the obvious. "Did you not know?"

Harry looks back over his self made cocoon with his 'does not compute' face. "Did I not know I was practically married to a man no Harm I did not I. This is all very surprising."

"No, no jump back a few steps Harry," Harry's slow on processing so Harmony rubs harder and helps him through it. "The in love part. You guys weren't?"

"What?! No God no I. I don't know what's happening to me this is. We're not, I'm not," Harry flails out. Harmony folds herself around him for physical comfort and to make sure he doesn't hurt himself with aforementioned flailing. He loosens up immediately and Harry's a literal puppy.

"I don't know what's happening, I haven't felt this way since," Harry pauses on huffed air.

Harmony pines for what they were in theory rather than execution, but their actual not in danger romance lasted two weeks after the Christmas fiasco. She'd always thought at least part of their breakup besides general "a knight in shining armor lasts so long", Perry had been a part of that. Not to blame or be jealous or bitch about; they'd always been so, well, compatible.

Jonny Gossamer books would speak of short and sweet escapades in each of the series, and Harmony liked the trope liked the trope, but sometimes she'd focus on one of the naked ladies on the front and see stability within that book--that chapter. Sometimes Jonny was evolved and sometimes Jonny was an ass but compatibly was an essence the books captured consistently well, and shit, she sees it with Harry and Perry. Jesus Christ just their names.

She tunes back in to Harry's slight frantic and stuttered, "some weird hormone crush? Because I'm not--did I catch the gay?"

"Harry," she slaps his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You know better, it doesn't work like that. There's a spectrum."

"Right, no, right I get that I," he covers his face. "I've never--"

"Harry, why were you upset about me having sex with Chook Chutney?" Harry stills.

"Um what's that got to do with anything thank you for pointing out my general obliviousness of situations that's a great help--" Harry can be very slow on the uptake. Harmony pushes harder.

"Harry, think about why you were really upset. It wasn't possessive you don't do that you're not that creepy."

" _That creepy_ good glad to know."

"Harry. Use that brain I know you have, why were you upset."

Harry attempts to shrug in their swaddling. "He was my best friend I--I don't know it's why would he--"

"But you weren't upset with him you were upset with me."

"That was stupid of me sorry, he wasn't there so I--"

"Harry, why did--"

"I don't know why he didn't--if he's. Well Perry said he was. And why didn't he want to. Am I really that. Fuck." Harry thumps his head on to the couch, and Harmony cradles his face towards her to stop him from being stupid.

His face is confused and knowing and scared and Harmony immediately wants to help in any way she can to get these two to just fuck already or get married or whatever shit. She'd do a lot of things for that face."Harry you're okay you don't have to be in love with someone to love them or you don't have to do anything to still be in love with or whatever. It's fluid and flexible." She pets his hair and he further twists into her arms.

"But I want--I mean I think I want."

Harry's interrupted by a knock at the door and outline of broad shoulders that somehow seem pissed through the fogged in door.

" _Shit._ " Harry says and dives under Harmony's bed.


	4. Harry Becomes a 1940's Comedian With Bananas and Cartwheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony's over this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not over Colin Farrell being an unattributed plot device in this movie.

Harry would say he asks for very little in life--

Okay, no, that's a lie, but it's pathological not his fault, and fuck he's under a bed right now he gets a freebie. 

\--But, shit, no back on track; Harry asks for an appropriate amount of fairness in his life. For instance, when he runs away from his sporadic and crushing relationship idealizations and possible orientations he'd rather have some deserved privacy in the matter. Or, privacy freaking out on his Ex-Girlfriends/Ex-Dream-Girl's shoulder. To reiterate, it's only fair. 

Perry being a goddamn Psychic PI who finds him two hours after disappearing defies all this, however. And now Harry's smushed against Harmony's bed (probably provided by IKEA--Jesus Christ) and floor, which is stirring up pretty rough past experiences involving beds and floors and guns and. This isn't how his life was supposed to go.

"Where is he?" Perry's voice infiltrates, because Harmony must've done the non-Jonny-Gossamer thing to do and open the door. He's revoking her membership to the club, he doesn't care if he's the only member left.   

"Um, who?" Harmony inflects with all her acting grace, sounding like a sit-com and soap-opera simultaneously. 

"Colin Fucking Farrell, who the fuck do you think?" 

"Whoa, okay, cool it with the fucks. It's too early for me to start The Perry-Van-Shrike-Swearing-Drinking-Game. Trademark." Harmony's voice returns to normal. Some agent/fan side of Harry is proud of her ability to adapt to the improvisatory situation. 

"Don't do that again, last time we got your stomach pumped. I can't have you dying on me Harry wouldn't stop bitching about it," 

Oh. Not improvisation. 

"Aw, you do care," Harmony's feet spin in front of Harry's compromised vision. They shuffle his fingers, poking out, backwards, and once again he's thankful for Harmony's transcendental amazingness. 

"Cut the shit. There might be some anatomical differences but I've been exposed to enough flirting LA cocktail waiter play. Don't bat your eyes, it's creepy when you do it to me. Tell me where the fuck he is."

"Three shots--this is going to be a rough morning."

" _Harmony_." Perry's voice does something. Not-Perry-like. It dips down in what should be his usual Perry-Is-Above-the-Law-Or-No-He's-Not-but-He's-Damned-Good-At-Avoiding-It, but it shakes and fades out halfway through. Breaking. Harry resists the urge to pop out, do an entertaining dance, make Perry glare-call him an idiot-smile, so the world can be set right again. Harmony's working hard to cover him, though, so he should not listen to himself (usually a good idea) and stay put (also a good idea) and let Harmony make the decisions (the best of ideas). 

"Hey, Shrike. Honest, whatever's going on with Harry? No idea," Harmony spins her words, because Harmony is the greatest. There's a sigh, of pure exasperation, a level of exasperation Harry's used to but always somehow more intimidated by when it's Perry. "Sit down, I'm not letting you leave until you have like fifteen cups of coffee. What's up?" 

The bed becomes much more suffocating with the presence of Perry's stress literally weighing him down, because Harmony is the worst. 

"Harry's being a Harry and IKEA ate him." 

"Oh, well, in that case you get a bagel too." Pressure is added to Harry's shoulders, when Harmony sits next to Perry to support him and possibly punish Harry. He can't help the noise of his breath being squeezed out slip, exhaling like a broken squeaky toy. 

There's silence, Perry's look emanating in the air with it's own voice. "Bed's rickety," Harmony deadpans. "It's been through a lot." She bounces for extra measure, and Harry dies a bit more with the same dignified noise. 

"I'm sure," Perry places the cup on the floor inches from Harry's face. "I need to get him a leash." 

"Kinky."

Perry makes a muffled snort, covered by what must be his hands over his face, knees on his elbows. It's an expression Harry's usually the opposite end, and often cause, of. "I can feel his Gay Panic from here, with you saying shit like that." 

Harmony doesn't respond. She's a better actress than she lets on. 

"I've checked every bar, store, jail, pound, gutter in LA. It's my job to find these places, the fuck is he?" Perry says. 

"Harry's used to defying reason." Harmony somehow presses down harder on the mattress. Worst comes to worst, if Harry really does drown down here at least it'll be the one body Perry van Shrike had a reasonably hard time finding, that's kinda funny. In a not so funny way. "Despite what he says and does and acts like, he's a grown-ass man. He'll be fine, what's got your panties in a twist?" 

"It's. Harry."

Harmony pauses. "Point taken."

Harry hates everyone he loves.

No, wait. 

Not--

Shit. 

"That was a long time ago, with extenuating circumstances involving murder, mystery, lies, deceit. I'm sure he's fine one day on his own in the big city." 

"People don't just disappear in IKEA. It's big sure, but big stores also mean kidnapping. Or he went for a walk and died trying to save a kitten from a tree--"

"He's allergic--"

"Slipping on a banana peel and getting a concussion trying to make some crying baby laugh," 

"I don't think he's a 40's comedian?"

"Breaking every bone in his body falling down enough flight of stairs to win a bet he could cartwheel on aforementioned stairs because he took my stupid joke about paying rent literally, because he takes everything literally, but never seriously, no, no, that'd make no sense--"

"Alright." Harmony lets up, which is some relief for the pressure building in Harry's insides. Perry is worried. Perry is worried about Harry. For amplified Harry reasons, but, Harry reasons nevertheless. "I'm pausing this catastrophizing van Shrike to summon the Perry I know to go home, and realize that none of those things will happen to Harry. Don't be patronizing, even if he deserves it. And, sure as hell don't be possessive."

"I'm not try--"

"Doesn't matter, give him a break. He's gone in 48 hours you can come back here and scream at me and we'll be the Three Dysfunctional Musketeers again, fighting for what's right and being wrong at it all the time."  

Harmony's feet dance in front of Perry's planted Oxford's (how the fuck does he know that? For the Love of Tit-Loving Gossamer Cover Artists, Perry's under his skin) and the remainder of the weight is lifted from Harry. For reasons he's not sure he's ready to look into, he misses it. 

"48 hours is the whole reason I have a business, Harm," Perry says, but follows her towards a door creaking open. 

"Harry's not a job, he's a person. A very dumb person, but a person who can go for a bit of private LA sight seeing. Even if he went at the not most opportune-middle-of-erran-run times." 

They say what might be a goodbye, but sounds like a pissy final snap at each other, before Harmony slams the door (Harry's fingers curl to protect themselves automatically). She walks over slow, back to where he can see her tap her foot. It's not mature, but Harry stays where he is. There's a groan and Harmony's flattening herself against the floor to level where Harry lies. She whistles.

"C'mere boy, come out and I'll give you a treat?" Harmony says. 

Harry whimpers and hits his head against the floor. 


	5. Seduction Strategies and Perry You Weren't Supposed to be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stick to the Plan, Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi angst you weren't supposed to be here, what the hell? Um.

The treat is coffee, just coffee, despite Harry’s whimpering for maybe something other than Just Coffee but Harmony cuts that request short because “as much as I am a stereotype of ‘runaway to LA actress’, I’m not going to humor the idea of furthering that stereotype with 11 AM bourbon coffee—no Harry it doesn’t help you plan it does the exact opposite, we’ll end up doing something stupid enough for Perry to find us earlier than we intend and he may actually get a leash for you, you heard that down there right? But, hey, maybe I’m not wrong and you might like that? Oh jeez, don’t look at me like that just drink the damned coffee.”  

So, Harry settles with Just Coffee, which is more sugar than coffee really because it’s Harry, while Harmony drowns her second cup of black faster than she probably should. Black coffee was supposed to give her an edge in the LA atmosphere, or some shit like that. Except that edge has only stretched out and gotten her into being a Slutty Santa Spy, and too early in the morning couple therapist. 

“What’s the plan, hotshot?” She’s riding on a bit of a buzz from the coffee, and as much as she won’t admit it, successfully pulling one over the apparent Great PI Detective Perry van Shrike. Acting has roots in convincing someone of lies, it’s nice to see she’s able to do at least one part of the gig. 

Harry’s head is lulled back on the couch, holding him up as he stares glazed over at the ceiling. It can’t do him any good being stuck in his brain by himself for so long, so Harmony knocks on head. He rolls his eyes over, but makes no other move to show he’s back with her. “How do you think Seattle is this time of year?” 

“Harry." 

“No, seriously, this could like be my thing? I just sporadically move to some major city of contradicting location in the United States in untraceable ways. It’ll be a good hobby. Escape a robbery gone wrong, move, possible marriage to not actual boyfriend boyfriend, move, other inevitable Seattle based disaster, I flood the fucking state or something, move.”  

“Harry.”

“Not to mention Perry probably physically can’t enter Seattle what with the rain, overcast weather washes him out and—oh my, God, why do I know this, Harm, I’m getting gayer by the second—" 

Harmony stares at Harry with a stare she knows is enough to make him feel slapped, based on his exaggerated recoil. He mutters sorry to an entire sexuality again, and hides his face guiltily by sipping from the the mug for recompense. 

“Right, I’m going to talk now because whenever you do someone gets shot or insulted or both, sometimes in that order,” Harmony squares her shoulder and gives her most convincing Shit Getting Done smolder. “Here’s the plan.” 

Harry perks up, “Yeah?” 

“Okay, get ready, it's a really good plan, if I do say so myself.” 

Harry perks up further, nodding, because literal dog.  

 “Phase one,” Harmony pauses for dramatic effect, reeling in her audience, for what she’s about to deliver will change plot course of Harry’s Fucked Up Decisions-Return of the Dumbass. “You go back home—”

Harry deflates, “Hi, Harmony Lane is it? My name is Harry Lockhart pleased to meet because you obviously have no idea who I am.” 

“Simplicity is sometimes the best laid of schemes.” Harmony says, and Harry makes a noise which is intrinsically a question mark articulated. Under that noise though, there’re more questions than just exasperation. This is fifteen plus years of sexuality crises, possible partnership with literal partners in unintentional crime, and well, it’s _Harry_. There are always going to be twelve different things to think about for one issue, all of which he won’t realize until later if ever. He steals things not for shits and giggles, but because that’s how he sets order. Stealing. 

To reiterate, Harmony deserves so much better than all of this.  

“Look,” she tries again, toning down the acting voice and motivations and semantics to make way for Harmony the friend. “All I know is you ran away from an IKEA, hid under my bed, and asked for bourbon in your coffee at 11 in the morning rather than, I don’t know, using your goddamn words. Maybe my plan isn’t as great as, what was it, running away to Seattle? But, it’s a whole lot easier, and you get to keep an actual place of residence for a little while longer. That’s an impressive bonus for you, yeah? I should try sleeping with the boss too.” 

“Shut up,” Harry says, but is startled-smiling, or well attempting to smile, through probably whatever his brain may be saying in response to that idea. Grimacing with kind eyes. 

“The most important thing is the one we haven’t really focused on. Do you like him?”  

“Oh my God, are we actually in High School again. No wait, my high school self would probably beat me up for talking to Harmony Lane about _another_ guy. Next I’m gonna tell you we got pinned and I’ve gone from like-liking to like-like-liking him.”

“C’mon, I’m on a roll here with being your ex-girlfriend guide on the magical world of your latent, repressed sexuality, just talk to me. Do you like him?” 

“Did you miss the whole ‘the world is over I’m in love with my best friend and no one should ever be exposed to me doing that hey Harm remember how much that sucked’?” 

Oh. 

Oh, shit. 

“Harry.” At first Harry looks confused by her voice, then his eyes stare past her head for a moment as if reading the words he just let out, and he growl/groans letting his eyes and head roll back. “Harry, no, come back that’s a bit more—" 

“Of nothing, it’s nothing really. Hey, you’re so right I’m going to take your advice,” somehow despite looking so down he pops up with a vicious intensity Harmony’s afraid to encroach upon for a second. “Your advice wins, congrats, I’m going home, or Perry’s home, my home? I just now realized I didn’t correct you calling Perry’s home my home, that’s. Disconcerting. Something else to think about.”

Harmony reaches out and not so much grabs on to, but holds Harry steady. He won’t look at her, and maybe that’s for the best. “Harry, you know that’s not what happened right?” Harry laughs a high noise like he’s letting out something he doesn’t want to say, while keeping what he should in. “You have to know that’s not what—”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s just that every single person I decide being friends isn’t enough ends up leavi—” Harry coughs over the rest of that. “The point is, I’m not good with that whole deal. Which, hey can’t win them all, and Jesus fuck, you don’t need all this you dealt with me enough,”

“It’s not _dealing_ with?” 

“More than enough, already. So, please, before you exceed the Harry Lockhart Exposure limit,”

“Harry.” Harmony’s not having this, and her voice’s not having this, and Harry must sense how much all aspects of Harmony are not having this. “I don’t know who fucking told you have a limit, and I’d kick them in the fucking shins with my good stilettos, but what you’re talking about, that’s not what happened, and it sure as hell won’t happen with Perry because no matter how this, whatever it is, turns out? You can’t get rid of us. We need you, and you’re so, so…Good.” 

“Oh my God.” 

“No, really,” Harmony smiles at Harry’s pained laugh. “You are so good. You’re a literal knight. Like. It’s scary, how you do all you do with all that shining armor.” 

“You’re killing me here, Harm. Johnny Gossamer is rolling his eyes at us, these are some lame PI descriptors.”

“Well, I’m not talking to some jackass PI, I’m talking to my friend who I love very much,” Harmony keeps on through Harry’s groans emphasized by full bodied flailing. “And will continue loving even through some other shit’s idea of Harry Lockhart Limit, or whatever. Seriously, don’t know if this breaks your code of ‘Try Not to Cause the Crime’s We Solve’ but give me a name and we can fix this problem.” She wiggles her eyebrows in a way she hopes conveys her unspeakable intentions. Based on Harry’s steadily growing smile, yes she is achieving something in the clusterfuck of a morning. 

Somehow, by the means of Harry’s general empathetic dexterity (an ability verging on scary superpower), he eyes her in a way which shows how much he knows about Harmony, specifically how tired she is at what should a reasonable time to be awake or at least mentally cognizant. He makes moves to leave, but she can’t have him running off again, ending up in Seattle’s IKEA, if they even have one, flooding the state like he’d said in a fit of keeping people from getting tired of him (really who the fuck has the balls to say) 

Harry moves his hands on top of hers clasped tighter now around his wrist. He gives her a look, and she knows he’s going to be okay. “Trust me to give your plan a try?” 

Harmony nods, and while she’ll never tell him, she’s pretty happy with the friends she has. “Promise not to stray from the plan?” 

Harry scoffs, “When have I ever strayed from a plan?”

 

* * *

 

Harry strays from the plan. 

Or, well, he accomplishes the major aspect in that he got to his—Perry’s—their? Jesus, why’s this self discovery analytics of a relationship he may or may not have with his best friend gotta be so taxing—house. 

And that was good. 

Now he’s half naked and posing on Perry’s desk. 

And that’s maybe not as good.  

The formation of this add on to the plan, not technically breaking the layout of the original in that Harmony never finished telling Harry what to do after getting to the house though probably not meant to insinuate this being the end goal, came form a spur of the moment inspiration he may or may not have read in a cheap paperback at an airport. As most of Harry’s plans are wont to do. 

As he snuck into the top window of his-Perry-their-The okay it’s just going to be THE House now-house, being an adult and facing his problems head on, he saw the desk and saw everything he and Perry had become together in solidifying their cohabitation and occupational as well as associative affiliation and decided, _yeah I should get naked on that._

The plan had sounded better at the time. Or, for about five seconds after his pants were off, felt creepy, left the boxers on to instead opt for a “oh no, my shirt and pants wherever have they gone I guess I’ll just have to lounge around without them” sexy assistant. 

His seductive methods were lacking, but this was new territory. New territory with being kinda, sorta already married to your boss best friend by technicality (living together, sharing an income, _going to IKEA_ ) who happened to have a penis. And knows what to do with two. Together. In a romantic way.  

Harry groans at himself, and rolls around to shift poses, not sure if to look pleasantly surprised or caught off guard because really this was a completely natural way to be found in the Perry’s office. His brain keeps on about the sexy assistant, two penis thing, idea though, now being allowed to fixate on the intrigue of the notion without Harry immediately forcing it away.

The sex isn’t important, who the fuck cares about that. Okay, he kind of cared about that, but the main point was, he likes Perry in maybe a not strictly Thank You for Letting Me Live Here It’s Sort of Unclear if I Can Go Back to New York I Don’t Think I’d Want to I Enjoy You-Er-Well Being Here With You So Much way. Besides, and here’s the other more main point, Perry possibly, most likely, shouldn’t, requite his feelings. That’s fine, what Harry will just put his pants back on, sprint to a different state (maybe Hawaii, then there’ll be an ocean between them) in mortification, and everything's back to normal.

Being able to focus on one way to ruin what he has with Perry rather than a suffocating tidal wave of ways has him stop and plan a way to grab his purposefully disheveled looking clothes and hide for the next six years, but before any part of Harry remembers how to move under panic he realizes the door is open and Perry’s standing. Right. There. 

Harry blinks, and Perry keeps standing. Coughing, Harry says, “hey, boss,” trying to sound sultry but sounding more horrified (oh yeah super enticing). The pose he’d landed on in the midst of his arraignment and sex contemplations had been stuck on his back with his legs crossed over themselves mid-transition, while his hands were rubbing away an oncoming headache at his temples. 

This wasn’t tempting. This was tragic. 

Perry continues standing and staring like Harry’s just some new case file on his desk, or something’s been rearranged in a way that’ll throw off Perry’s whole work system. Then just as suddenly as he appeared (teleported really), a noise throws off the whole frozen structure of their stalemate. The noise is so shocking Harry has a hard time understanding what it is despite looking right at the cause. 

It’s Perry laughing.

It’s Perry roar laughing. 

At Harry.  

This sends Harry upright, spluttering indignant defense and arm waving at what room he had to work with. “Oh—well—like you could do better.” This somehow makes Perry laugh even louder which is kind of breaking the sound barrier at this point. “Shut up, with your, and your--You've no doubt done this bit already with one of your sixty million a week conquests. God, you’re such a slut, you know that Per? I made an _effort,_ and the effort is what matters, just—ugh.” 

“ _What the fuck. I thought you were dead_ ,” Perry gasps, through laugh shrieks, out. Harry jumps at that, covering himself and remembering the earlier guilt he had about disappearing. At Perry’s continued laughter, with no hint at subsiding, Harry’s guilt recedes and festers in Perry’s mocking. “Or, dying. Christ who fucking runs away from IKEA. No you’re not subtle, you must’ve been kidnapped, but. But. No, this,” Perry waves over Harry’s display and is engulfed by more laughter. “Is what you were doing.” 

“Not the whole day,” Harry grumbles. “Went to Harmony’s to hang out.” 

This actually does have Perry stop laughing, a bit, seeming to hold back the full blown laughter just so he can speak, but still leaving giggles strewn throughout what he says, “No shit? Glad to know I’m not the worst PI. Before or after I was there?” Harry doesn’t answer. The look on Perry’s face is appropriate vengeance for his ridiculed sexual prowess. “ _During_?” Harry flicks the back of Perry’s good chair with his foot. “Fuck, wow, that is. You guys are evil, you know that?” 

“No, you don’t get to reprimand me for using my impressive sleuth skills after mocking my not as impressive seductive skills.”  

And, oh, yeah Perry probably didn’t know that’s what was happening. Perry’s face confirms, yes he definitely didn’t know that’s what was happening. The face he’d been making which Harry had been reveling in, now had Harry’s stomach bottom out and he’s fast he could get past Perry and out the door, out of LA, fuck the pants, leave the pants he’ll get more all he needs is for Perry to not make that face at him ever again—

“Okay.” Perry’s not laughing at all anymore, he’s fucking van Shrike PI now with the important inflections and charge taking countenance. “Okay, we’re talking about that.” Perry takes off his jacket despite Harry’s clothes being rather conveniently, yet inconveniently, around them, and hands it to him. It’ll be too big and too nice for Harry, “more expensive than Harry’s life” and all that, and one that Perry know Harry loves, because it’s like hugging a freaking cloud. Perry leaves before Harry can say anything else, like he needs to excuse Harry to get himself ready. He can hear Perry making enough noise to show him he’ll be in the living room, and based on the glasses moving around he really meant Talk about this. 

Harry thumps his head into his hands, cushioning the impact through the jacket he’s holding. He needs to learn to stick to plans.  


End file.
